Molly Club

My father invited me into his study and bad me take a seat.

"Now then, Samuel," he began, "I want to talk to you about your future. We must do something about your career."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, very pleased to hear the news.

"Now the first thing. As you are 21 and of age, I think there is no reason for you to continue to call me sir. Father will do."

"Why thank you, sir. I mean Father. Thank you, Father. It is an honour. Please tell me what you have in mind for my career."

"Well, as you know, your older brother will inherit the estate, and is already well placed in society with the prospect of a suitable bride. It is clear your younger brother is headed for the church. Good Latin, passable Greek, not an original thought in his head. Tends to believe anything you tell him. Perfect for the job. We can probably get him to bishop with the right word here and there, but he is not wily enough to go higher."

"First let us consider marriage. Your mother is already looking out for suitable girls. The Chatterleys have two who are said to be rather pretty. They are 7 and 9, I believe, so should be just about right when you are 30 or so and have established your own income. Their mother is a very fine-looking and very proper woman, so we may hope one of them would make you an equally dutiful wife. We may get a chance to see them when they have the next grouse shoot. I understand their new gamekeeper has worked wonders for the estate. I believe he has also worked on the lady's garden, and her ladyship is well satisfied."

"Now we must consider how to get you into an income and standing which would enable you to court ladies of this quality. I have been very impressed with you, and believe you can do well if in contact with the right people. I therefore propose to introduce you to one of my clubs this afternoon."

That afternoon we left our carriage in a quiet but grand street in Kensington and went to a building where he pointed out the inscription in stone "Molière House" high above, presumably after the great French playwright.

"This is formally the Molière Club, but members refer to it as the Molly Club, Molly House, or just the Molly."

To my surprise we went to a side entrance and rang the bell.

The door was opened by an old woman in a smart maid's outfit, who ushered us in, greeting my father and saying "Good to see you again, Master Samuel."

I looked at her more carefully.

"Smithers, is that really you?"

(It was the beard which really gave the game away. Few serving women of my acquaintance have a fringe around the chin in what is called a Newgate collar.)

"Our old gardener! I used to ride you round the gardens at our country house."

"Indeed you did, sir! Beating me with a riding crop, just like Lord Fauntleroy. Happy days!"

"Of course, you carried him on your back, didn't you, after the savages attacked from the rear? Damned unsporting!"

"How good of you to remember sir. After his horse was killed, I carried him to safety. He got a medal from the Queen, for that."

I turned to my father.

"Why is Smithers dressed as a maid?"

"Well, I had decided to dismiss him as he was getting old, and was just going to turn him and his family out of their cottage, when I remembered that he had been batman to Lord Fauntleroy, and the club was in need of a maid to help dress members, so here we are."

Smithers grovelled appropriately in thanks.

"Excuse me, Father," I said in some puzzlement. "Surely a valet would be more appropriate."

"Come through to the dressing room, and I will explain," he answered.

We went into a room which was more like a ladies' salon, with dresses and even petticoats on open display. I was more than a little embarrassed. Surely we were in the wrong room!

"This is a very private gentleman's club where you may be sure there are no female staff to gossip. Much as we love the fair sex, we cannot have maids and cooks, only male staff."

"I see, so the servants have appropriate costumes. But why all the dresses?"

"That is the point. It is a rule that members and guests dress as females. It is very relaxing, and is a good place to meet important people. Of course, as ladies there is no smoking, so do not request a cigar. There is also no strong liquor, only light wines in moderation, to ensure seemly conduct."

"Now Smithers, or Marian as you should call her, will find you a suitable costume and I will introduce you. Maybe one of mine would fit, or we have several for guests."

"But I haven't worn a dress since I was seven!"

"Indeed, I remember your eighth birthday very well. You were so proud in your first breeches, and calling me sir instead of Papa! Now you are fully a man and it is time to meet some of the most influential people in society. You will have to dress the part. Of course, we can leave if you are afraid."

Put like that, what could I do but agree?

Another maid came to help my father into a corset, underwear, dress and wig, while I was dressed by Marian.

"I take it you are not accustomed to a corset, so I suggest this green damask tea gown which is part of the new Aesthetic movement," she said. "It is not so restricting, and suits a young male figure."

She put on what she called a 'sanitary woollen corset' which had pads to mimic the breasts. It was tight but manageable. She told me it had cords rather than the whalebone which my father favoured. Then the petticoat, and underdress with a little padding around the hips and buttocks plus a green velvet overdress.

With a brunette wig and charming ringlets, I had to admit that I looked rather fine in the mirror. My father, of course, was more formally and magnificently dressed in a pink and dark red satin gown with a fuller skirt. Marian put some Crème Céleste and Pearl Powder on my face to whiten it, as ladies of taste like to appear.

Marian led us into what looked like the withdrawing room of ladies in the grandest house. On sofas, chairs and the occasional chaise-longue were what at first sight appeared to be ladies of the upper classes conversing softly, attended by maidservants.

My father was greeted with genteel gestures from several of the club members, and responded in kind, moving gracefully to what I suspected was his accustomed chaise-longue. His skirt had a rather full bustle, and I wondered that he could sit down at all, but he did so with grace and ease. I later learned that the skirt was spring loaded! (Another triumph for our technological age.)

I sat down more gingerly (and I am sure less elegantly) and looked around. I was met with nods and smiles. Marian went to get us some tea and served it while my father told me more.

"You are here as my guest, but if you wish, I could nominate you for membership. It is the custom that we take female names and only use them. I am Florence, but it would be appropriate for you to call me Mama. We must have a name for you. Marian: what names are currently available?"

"Frances, Gertrude, Martha, Myrtle and Pearl, Mistress Florence."

"Hmm. Myrtle, I think. Will that suit you."

"That suits me fine, dear Mama. But I am worried. Is this moral, or even legal?"

"If you want a moral judgement, you could ask Prudence, over there in the light blue taffeta gown. She is an archbishop. The matron in dark orange is a judge, Charity, who always comes here after a good hanging, so she can give you a legal opinion. The lady with her head under Charity's dress is actually the Member of Parliament for Cockermouth. It is a bit of a tradition here that the incumbent should provide the service provided by the name. The seat is effectively the gift of this club, but I am not sure this was fully explained to the Marquis when he took the nomination."

I was startled. "So this sort of thing happens in the club?"

"Not normally here. This room is solely for intercourse. Other activities between members take place upstairs. However, Charity does not like stairs, so is an exception."

He was interrupted as the judge ejaculated "Hang them all!", and the MP came out from under the dress rather red-faced and with her wig askew.

"As I was saying, the main purpose of this club is intercourse between influential members of society in a totally discreet manner. We put aside our normal status, and treat each other politely as ladies would. The clothes remind us, and it is of course an opportunity to experience something a little different. I certainly find it refreshing, and I hope you will too."

"This floor fulfils that function, but as in any club, we have games rooms upstairs."

"Ah," I said, "billiards and cards, no doubt."

"Actually no. Not these competitive pursuits. More mutually beneficial activities, perhaps better described as sports. For example, what Charity was enjoying, but more active ones as well."

"Begging your pardon, Mistress Florence," interrupted Marian, "but the beating room is downstairs."

"You are right to remind me, Marian. We have a room downstairs where members can go with a servant for a beating. Might that appeal to you sometimes?"

"I would not beat a servant for no reason," I protested, "and never a woman!"

"Sorry, you misunderstand. The beating room is for members who feel there is a lack of discipline in their lives, and go there to be beaten. Some have developed a taste for it at school or at sea. Others just wish it. It has never appealed to me, so I cannot say. I believe my father thrashed me just the right amount, and I hope I have done the same for you."

I assured him that he had.

"Now then, Marian. I suggest you take Myrtle here upstairs to see what happens there, and introduce her to Nancy Bell, if she's not busy. I need to talk with a few people."

Marian took me upstairs. It most resembled the bordello my father had taken me to on my eighteenth birthday. In a large sitting room were what appeared to be at first sight three comely maidens in their undergarments, showing stockings and knickers. Unlike the ladies downstairs they wore rouge on their lips and cheeks.

One had the divided French knickers which allow ladies to answer the calls of nature, in which his masculinity was obvious. They were all clean shaven except for one, whose neat moustache enhanced his pleasant visage. They rose to greet me as a "new girl" and Marian introduced us. The other two ladies had garters on their stockings, but the one with the moustache had some sort of straps. Seeing my interest, she invited me to look closely. The strap joined the stocking with a sort of button and staple, which she said was called a stocking suspender hasp. I marvelled at the technology and accepted her invitation to stroke her thighs to learn how it felt. She also said how pretty I looked, and said how they always looked forward to the entry of a new member.

Marian had gone to fetch another servant, and introduced us.

"Mistress Myrtle, may I present to you one of our most important servants, Miss Nancy Bell. She was a sailor, so has a special role here."

Nancy curtseyed respectfully, and said "I look forward to serving you, Mistress Myrtle." Her hair was in a pigtail, and she had a tattoo of an anchor on a rather muscular forearm.

I recognised the name!

"Nancy Bell!" I exclaimed. "Was that your ship?"

"Yes Mistress, which is why I took the name in gratitude for my deliverance."

I thrust my hand forward instinctively, but then checked myself. Although the sailor was one of the lower orders, I would have been glad to shake the hand of such a hero. However, it would not be seemly to shake the hand of a servant, and I did not want to make such a

faux pas

on my first visit.

"So you were the sole survivor of ten shipwrecked mariners, on a coral reef with no food for months? In remarkably good health, it seems, despite having had to bury all your shipmates one by one at sea."

"The Lord was with me," she said humbly. I nodded my assent to this worthy statement.

"Nancy is also a skilled cook, as you may find if you take a meal here," remarked Martha.

"Being a sailor, of course," she continued, "Nancy is no stranger to sodomy. If that should appeal to you at any time, she can give you instructions and assist with suitable partners. It helps to begin carefully to prevent injury, and you should take care with partners to avoid infection."

"Nancy is also available in the Beating Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays as our schoolmistress, and gives great satisfaction. It is best to make an appointment, and note that she can be busy when Parliament is sitting. I will of course be glad to provide you with this service myself, for old times' sake, as often as you wish."

"Now she will introduce you to these facilities, and I will resume my duties downstairs, with your leave, Mistress." I waved her away.

Nancy explained that the rooms off the corridor were for members to enjoy each other more thoroughly than was appropriate downstairs.

"Closed doors are for those who desire privacy, open doors for those who prefer to be observed. Now Chastity and Constance are ready to begin, if you would oblige them with your presence."

She took me to an open door where one charming lady was sitting on a bed and another was bent over, kissing her. When they saw me, they stood up and waved graciously. The one from the bed looked down quite demurely, then bent over the bed and lifted her skirts to show some fine muscular buttocks, no knickers, but stockings and suspender straps. Her companion quickly removed her skirt and petticoats, but retained her bodice. She also had split knickers from which a fine pizzle jutted.

She then proceeded to roger the woman on the bed with great enthusiasm. It was hard to say which of them had the most enjoyment, and the penetrator was obviously very fit. I was quite affected by the sight.

Having spent her seed, she looked at me archly, winked and bent over the bed, so that her companion could do the same service. Again the split knickers showed their advantage. I was aware of my own masculinity within the confines of my feminine clothes, and felt something for which I cannot give a name, but was definitely worthwhile.

We waited for them to finish, when they thanked me most prettily for my attention.

Nancy said two of the other rooms had some interesting modern contrivances, but they were not to be viewed by visitors, only full members.

As we went down stairs I appreciated the effect of my silken garments on my nether parts. This was quite different from the woollen ones I was used to, and rather pleasing.

Back downstairs I felt the need to relieve myself, so was directed to the privy.

Upon my return my father introduced me to various ladies, including a colonel I knew from my father's regiment. There was a minister of state, and a famous railway engineer I recognised from etchings in the newspapers. They complimented me, and said how respected Florence was. Several said I seemed just the sort of young person the club needed. One lady said that she was glad to meet me, as her wife knew my mother well, since they often enjoyed tiffin together at the Sappho Club.

Finally, after much pleasant intercourse, we took our leave, and returned to our regular clothes, which seemed rather drab in comparison.

As we waited for our carriage, Father asked me "Well, what do you think, Samuel? Shall I ask my dressmaker to measure you up, and recommend you for membership?"

"Oh yes, Father! Yes please!"

"That's my boy!"